


Learning to Love the Young Lord

by AmadeusRex



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Awkwardness, Diplomacy, First Meetings, Flirting, Kiss on the Hand, M/M, Niflheim Prince Prompto AU, Promnis Week, Prompto Besithia - Freeform, Prompto is raised in Niflheim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 18:58:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17493443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmadeusRex/pseuds/AmadeusRex
Summary: Ignis expects Lord Prompto Besithia to be a fine friend and ally to Noctis one day.Ignis doesnotexpect young Lord Besithia to take a liking tohim.Written for Promnis Week 2019 Day 4: Niflheim Prince AU.





	Learning to Love the Young Lord

_Aldercapt, Iedolas. Emperor of Niflheim. Never married, no heir._

_Besithia, Verstael. Research Chief and foremost pioneer in magitek for the Niflheim empire. In Emperor Aldercapt’s good graces._

_Besithia, Prompto. Son of Research Chief Besithia, and likely heir to the throne in the case of Aldercapt’s death. Known to be skilled with magitek, though no evidence suggests he is involved with research and/or development._

Ignis pores over the dossiers and their accompanying photos. For all their magitek advances, Niflheim photo quality sure is shit. The images are tiny, grey, and grainy, and the young Besithia looks nearly as old as his father for it. According to his date of birth, Prompto Besithia is Noctis’ age, but Ignis has a hard time believing the weary-looking man in the photo is younger than himself.

Ignis hopes that Noctis and young Besithia will get along some time in the future, when both have ascended their respective thrones, but Ignis knows that day is far off. Although he is traveling to Gralea tomorrow, Noctis is staying in Insomnia. Ignis is accompanying King Regis to a meeting regarding a minor border dispute somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He can’t say he’s excited.

He gives his papers one last read before going to bed. He’s not excited to go to Niflheim, but perhaps they can at least begin to sow the seeds of friendship with young Besithia, for the sake of future generations.

 

* * *

 

Once in Gralea, Ignis and the rest of the Lucian delegation are greeted by a small unit of mixed magitek and imperial forces. Leading them is a young man in white and red robes. He is fair of hair and complexion; once he’s near enough to speak, his voice is young and thin. Ignis recognizes that this is young Lord Besithia.

“Welcome, Your Majesty King Regis,” Besithia says, bowing. He wastes no time in shaking Regis’ hand instead of waiting for a bow in return; he’s sharp for having noticed the cane and brace so quickly. The young man turns to Ignis. “And you must be Count Ignis Stupeo Scientia, advisor to Prince Noctis, correct? It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, young Lord Besithia,” Ignis says, now bowing himself. When he straightens up again, he gets a better look at Besithia: gaunt and pale and small for a twenty-year-old, with his freckles the only color in his face. His hair is slicked back, which somehow makes his face look even thinner than it is. He makes eye contact and Ignis sees that Besithia has violet eyes. They’re striking, and Ignis finds himself unable to look away. It doesn’t turn out to be a problem, however, because Besithia turns his attention to the other Lucians almost immediately.

“Come in, come in, it wouldn’t do for us to leave our guests out in the cold. Please, follow me.” Besithia turns around in a sweeping motion, his cloak creating a draft chillier than the winter winds.

As he enters the imperial palace, Ignis takes in the architecture and aesthetics of Niflheim. Everything is stark white; Ignis is reminded of a hospital, sterile and cold. The red accent of the carpet leading through each door looks like a trail of blood, drawn by the silver suits of armor that line the halls. Upon closer inspection, Ignis realizes that some of the suits of armor are, in fact, actual guards, but whether they’re human or MT is unknown to him, and he prefers it that way.

Upon reaching the hall in which negotiations will take place, Ignis waits for everyone else to file in before entering himself. He notices that young Lord Besithia is holding the door open.

“Have you been doing that this whole time?” Ignis is puzzled as to why the effective heir apparent to the Niflheim Empire is holding a door open for the lesser nobles and commoners of the Lucian delegation.

“Yes; why shouldn’t I? It’s simply basic hospitality, dear Count.” Besithia gives a small, crooked smile, and Ignis is caught off-guard. Perhaps it’s because the only prince he’s ever known is a brat, but Ignis finds, rather alarmingly, that the young Besithia is endearing himself to him.

They enter the hall and the meeting passes without incident. The border is drawn in Niflheim’s favor with the stipulation that all armed forces are withdrawn from the surrounding area. As they leave the meeting hall, young Besithia approaches Ignis.

“What brings you here instead of Prince Noctis?” he asks. “One would think the future ruler of Lucis would begin to travel to meetings now that he’s twenty.”

“Noctis is in university now,” Ignis replies. “He would come, but it’s midterm season. I, as his advisor, was sent in his place, though I would have accompanied him here anyway.”

“I see. I do wish we could have met.” They walk the halls side by side. Besithia escorts Ignis to dinner. It’s a proper Niflheim feast, stews and roasts littering the table. It’s not home cooking, but Ignis does find it delicious. He engages some of the councilmembers seated by him in conversation, imperial and Insomnian citizens alike, yet even as he shifts his gaze around the table, making eye contact with everyone he’s talking to, his eyes are always drawn toward young Besithia.

And young Besithia’s eyes are always on him.

 

* * *

 

After dinner, the Lucian delegation is shown to their quarters. Most members are sleeping two to a room, but Regis, as king, and Ignis, as advisor to the crown prince, are privileged with their own private rooms. As Ignis is settling into his, he hears a knock at his door. Young Besithia is behind it.

“Young Lord—”

“Please, call me Prompto.” He invites himself in and takes a seat in one of the room’s plush chairs. Ignis notices that his regalia has been stripped off, and he looks even thinner for it.  
“Alright, then, _Prompto_ ,” Ignis says, and the name feels strange on his tongue, like it’s taboo. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m visiting you.” Prompto’s eyes are fixed on Ignis’. Everything about him is softer, and Ignis isn’t sure if it’s just because of the moonlight coming through the window, or if it’s because his hair isn’t gelled back, or if this is simply who Prompto truly is behind closed doors.

Closed doors. The door to his room is closed. Ignis feels a scandal about to erupt when Prompto speaks again.

“How old are you, Count Scientia? I know the prince is my age, but what about his advisor?”

Ignis swallows. He doesn’t know why Prompto’s here, there is _no reason_ for a “prince” of Niflheim to be visiting privately with a lesser Lucian noble, but here he is anyway.

“I’m twenty-one, about to turn twenty-two next month.”

“I see….” Prompto has propped his jaw up on his hand, still looking at Ignis. “Are you courting anyone?”

Ignis is taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Was I too forward? I apologize. I was just curious. Once I’m your age, Father will surely be looking for someone to marry me off to….” He trails off. In the dim lighting of the room, Ignis thinks he sees a hint of wistfulness on Prompto’s face, but when he blinks it’s been replaced by that piercing stare again. “Are you Lucians not into that sort of thing? Arranged marriages?”

“No, we’re not,” Ignis replies, perhaps it bit too coldly. “Noctis’ marriage to Lady Lunafreya is quite an anomaly, as far as recent Lucian history goes.”

“Oh, but at least they seem to like each other quite a bit,” Prompto says, sighing. “I don’t understand why Father seems so eager to marry me off in a couple of years. It’s not like _he’s_ married, and neither is the emperor. Is it just because everyone expects me to take the throne…?” His question trails off, like it was a thought he hadn’t meant to voice aloud.

“Young Lord—”

“Call me Prompto.”

“Right, _Prompto_ , why are you here, if I may ask? What business do you have with me?” Ignis feels a little bad for changing the subject so abruptly, but his question really does need an answer. Prompto smiles and gives a little laugh, which Ignis finds charming. Come to think of it, almost everything about Prompto is charming...his unruly hair, his freckles, his violet eyes….

Ignis forces his train of thought to come screeching to a halt before he can admit that he likes anything significant about Prompto, who’s begun to answer his question.

“Well, to be honest, Count Scientia, and do forgive me for being so forward, but I like you.” Prompto gives a smile, but it looks a bit nervous. It’s cutely crooked. “I’ve always dreamt of leaving Niflheim. I’ve been here my whole life. I’ve never left Gralea. So your Lucian manner is very...attractive to me, to say the least.”

Ignis is taken aback. He sees Prompto’s skin flush unmistakably pink against the white of his shirt. The heir to the Niflheim throne likes _him?_ Shouldn’t his interests lie at least somewhere in the vicinity of Noctis, heir apparent to Prompto’s enemy kingdom? Sick as it is, Ignis hopes it’s a joke, but the way Prompto shyly meets his eyes confirms that it is anything but.

“I should be going. It’s late,” Prompto says, not looking at Ignis for what feels like the first time all day. “I’m sorry for bringing that up so abruptly when we hardly know each other…. I just don’t meet many people my age.” He walks over and reaches for Ignis’ hand; Ignis lets him take it, expecting a handshake, but instead Prompto brings it to his lips. He looks up and gives Ignis a small smile. “Goodnight, dear Count. I may not see you again before you leave in the morning. I do hope you’ll visit again.”

As Prompto turns to leave, Ignis decides to throw him a bone.

“Prompto!”

He turns around, halfway to the door.

“Call me Ignis.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked my take on this AU! I wanted to keep it pretty compliant with the facts of canon (I even put in a little hint that Prompto might still be a clone...), but couldn't bring myself to change Prompto's first name. I think he's very much a different character here (pretty much all he has in common with canon Prompto is their appearance and name), but I hope you were able to enjoy this story nonetheless. Thank you for reading!


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